


throw me in the deep and watch me drown

by b_o_i



Series: shiro gets a present [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Choking, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Galra Keith (Voltron), M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Sexual Slavery (basically), Size Difference, Voyeurism, this is gross lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 03:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13918392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b_o_i/pseuds/b_o_i
Summary: Shiro wins his next three fights, one every other night. After his third consecutive win, he is summoned to Prince Lotor’s quarters. The first thing he sees when the doors slide open is Keith.





	throw me in the deep and watch me drown

**Author's Note:**

> i'm back what, 10 months later with a part 3?? let me tell you, i LOVE the lotor we got in season 5 but i love this crazy little shit too, so. take this mess from my hands.

 

Shiro wins his next three fights, one every other night. After his third consecutive win, he is summoned to Prince Lotor’s quarters.  
  
He is immediately on guard. He also remembers dark hair and light royal silk and, cautiously, thinks he knows what this is about.  
  
He is cleaned up before hand, the first real shower he’s had in god knows how long. Can’t be too dirty and improper in front of the prince, he supposes bitterly. At least he can wash the blood out from under his fingernails.  
  
He’s given new, cleaner gladiator rags, and escorted to the prince.  
  
The first thing he sees when the doors slide open is Keith. Keith propped up on his knees, leaning back against the prince, who has a large hand splayed across the boy’s stomach possessively and another one running through his hair. He looks like he’s whispering something, but stops when Shiro walks in.  
  
Keith follows the prince’s gaze, and let’s out a tiny gasp, eyes widening just a bit. Shiro isn’t as surprised, but holds his gaze all the same. It’s just as piercing as he remembers, if more docile. He didn’t know if he would ever see it again.  
  
“Champion,” Prince Lotor says; Shiro wonders if he knows his name and is too proud to say it, or if Keith didn’t tell him. Petty, he hopes it’s the latter.  
  
“Your highness,” he answers because he doesn’t wanna get killed, tilting his head in a bow. He glances at Keith as well, who doesn’t do anything but hold his gaze.  
  
“You must be wondering why you’re here.”  
  
“I am, your majesty.”  
  
Lotor smiles something sharp, “You’ve excelled in your latest matches. You’re gaining a reputation, Champion.”  
  
“Thank you, your—“  
  
Lotor waves at him dismissively, “I rather enjoy watching you myself. I know Keith here does, too. So,” he continues, gripping Keith’s hair a little to tilt his head back, baring his neck, “I thought it was due time for another reward. What do you think, Keith?”  
  
Keith swallows, but answers the question with poised ease that sets Shiro’s teeth on edge, “I think you’re right, my lord. Our Champion deserves a reward for his hard work.”  
  
Lotor hums, “And you?” He asks Shiro, “Do you think you deserve a reward?”  
  
Shiro shifts a little under his heavy gaze; he knows that if he answers wrong, no one would stop the prince from killing him.  
  
Shiro pretends to think for a moment, “If that’s what you believe, your majesty, then I would be honored to accept it.”  
  
Lotor grins something sharp, looking pleased. “I’m happy to hear that. Come here, Champion.” He pushes Keith forwards, and the boy lands on his hands, face level with Shiro crotch a few inches away.  
  
“Suck him off,” Lotor orders. “Give him what he deserves.”  
  
Keith gazes up at him, apprehensive, but only a little bit. Shiro goes to find the waistband of his stupid gladiator pants, but Keith finds it first. With his teeth. Pulls his pants down just like that, holding eye contact the whole time. Shiro feels a thrill race through him despite the prince’s presence.  
  
Keith wastes no time, trying to get Shiro as hard as possible as fast as possible, like it’s the most important thing in the world. His mouth is as warm and wet as Shiro remembers, breath hot against his cock. Keith jerks lightly against him; Shiro glances up to see Lotor gripping the boys hips, grinding slowly against him.  
  
When Keith takes him all the way down, Shiro’s  cock hitting the back of his throat, Shiro gasps, grasping at Keith’s hair to keep himself steady.  
  
“Your other one,” Lotor says. Shiro jumps at the sudden sound.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Your other hand. Use that one instead.”  
  
His galra arm. He doesn’t like the implications, but he switches hands, looking at the contrast of the gray against Keith’s dark hair.  
  
“Pull it,” Lotor says. Commands, really. Shiro finds he doesn’t like being bossed around, but his dick is in someone else’s mouth, the owner of whom could bite down at the prince's command.  
  
He pulls apprehensively. Just a little tug.  
  
“Come on, pull it, Champion. He likes it.”  
  
Shiro isn’t so sure about that, but he pulls harder, yanking Keith further into his cock, Keith chokes beautifully around him, moaning low on his throat.  
  
“See? He’s filthy for it.”  
  
Keith moans again, like he’s proving the prince’s point. The prince pets his back fondly.  
  
He keeps careful watch on the messy blowjob, a hand on the back of his neck. Just when Shiro is reaching the edge, right about to come, Lotor grabs Keith’s head and yanks him off of his cock.  
  
Shiro gasps at the cool air on his cock, and nearly growls in frustration. He’s shocked at himself, but also incredibly turned on. The prince raises an eyebrow at him, which somehow makes him flush.  
  
He pulls Keith back against him, and pats the spot on the bed in front of them. Cautiously, Shiro follows. The bed is softer than anything he’s felt in weeks.  
  
“Tell me, Champion,” the prince says, drawing careful circles on the skin of Keith’s neck, dipping down to his chest and pulling the light silk along with them. “Do you want to fuck my favorite whore?”  
  
“With all due respect, your majesty,” he says before he can stop himself, because all the wants to do is grip Keith’s hips the same way he did on the cell floor, feel the heat of someone underneath him, “I already have.”  
  
Keith’s eyes widen like Shiro's made a terrible mistake, but Lotor just laughs, the crazy bastard. “Yes, I suppose you have. Keith tells me you were very good.”  
  
Shiro flushes at the thought of Keith talking about him, like he’s some kid with a crush. He squashes those feelings quickly.  
  
“That's kind of him,” he says, glancing at the boy in question. He feels uncomfortable, talking about him like he isn’t sitting in Lotor’s lap. He finds Keith looking back at him, expressions schooled into something calm and expecting. He remembers Keith grinding down against him and telling him he wanted it, and thinks it’s sad that he doesn’t even have the chance to try to convince either of them. He’s barely spoken since Shiro entered the room.  
  
“He’s already prepared, of course,” Lotor says while Keith slowly spreads his legs. His silks drape down like something out of a wet dream, and leave little to the imagination, “But you’re going to loosen him up with your cock a bit more.”  
  
Which means Lotor is going to fuck him, too. He doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t know what any of this means, if the prince has some ulterior motive or if he’s just doing this for the fun of it. He wishes he’d asked Keith more about him back in the cell.  
  
He barely stops himself from reaching out to touch him. Lotor, of course, notices. He just smiles and says, “go ahead,” but it’s Keith tiny little nod that he takes as permission to move.  
  
Lotor lets Shiro grip Keith’s hips through his silks and pull him gently onto his back. Keith looks up at him, face blank. When Shiro hesitates, uncertain, Keith gives him a pointed look that very clearly says hurry the hell up. It seems like it’s a truly universal thing. Shiro would laugh if he wasn’t so anxious.    
  
He rucks up the royal silks, a parody of their time in the cell. His erection is flagging self consciously under the prince’s sharp gaze. He panics just a bit, when Keith brushes his leg up between his legs and finds him half soft. Keith doesn’t seem deterred, through, gazing up at Shiro and grinding up again, tilting his head back to give Shiro deliberate access. Shiro takes the out, dipping down to drag his teeth along the boy’s jaw. Keith arches into it, practiced and horrible.  
  
He knows what he’s doing, though. He moves against him, confident where Shiro is hesitant, working him up again. He’s so fucking pretty, is the thing—he was pretty on a dirty cell floor in the dark. Here, spread out on the bed in the dim light, Shiro could look at him all fucking day.  
  
He doesn’t want to risk the Prince getting impatient or anything, though, so he briefly lets Keith lick over two of his fingers before he knees the boy’s legs apart and slips his fingers in. He knows he’s already been prepped, but he wants to be sure. But he also doesn’t want to seem too concerned, so Shiro makes it quick, pulling out when Keith clenches around him and replaces his fingers with his dick.  
  
Keith lets out a low noise. Shiro sighs despite himself. It feels as good as he remembers, hot and tight and _wet_ , he still doesn’t know how that works. Maybe it’s a galra thing. He wonders if it’s one of the things that made him the prince’s favorite, and quickly pushes the thought from him mind.  
  
He’s almost managed to forget the prince’s presence altogether, when he says, “He can take it harder.”  
  
Shiro jumps a little bit, jerking Keith, who yelps a little, along with him. It feels good. Shiro looks up at Lotor, “I’m sorry?”  
  
“Fuck him harder, Champion,” he says, rolling his eyes a little bit, in a way that reminds Shiro eerily of an annoyed teenager, “Surely you can do that much. I don’t want my Keith to be wasted.”  
  
Shiro bites his lip, pulling Keith a bit closer, thrusting in a bit harder. Lotor scoffs. “You can do better than that. I saw the bruises you left behind.” Shiro flushes in shame, “Fuck him like you mean it. Fuck him like you want to.”  
  
Shiro grits his teeth and tries to channel the irritation and anger he’d felt back in that dirty little cell. Anger at Keith, and anger at the galra and anger at himself. Anger at Lotor, now, the smug asshole. Playing him like this is some twisted game Shiro doesn’t know the rules to. He lets himself pin Keith’s arms down and hold him in place while he fucks him. Keith lets him do it.  
  
“That’s it, there you go,” Lotor continues; Shiro thinks he must love the sound of his own voice, “You’re our champion, you should fuck like one. He’s so pretty, isn’t he? You should see how he looks dressed up, or when I peel all of that jewelry off afterwards. Sometimes I leave it on, just to hear how it sounds when he moves. Paint his lips bright red and get them around my cock and then paint his pretty face.”

Shiro can picture it—he’s seen… pleasure slaves dressed up in the stands at tournaments, even though he’s never seen Keith. All drapes, and fancy jewelry decorating nearly every part of his body. Shiro feels almost guilty for thinking it, for sharing a thought with lotor. Charcoal around his eyes, paint on his lips—god, but he’d be beautiful.  
  
“You like the sound of that?” Lotor asks, sounding amused. Shiro has a hand on Keith’s hip and another around a wrist, dangerously close to grabbing his hand instead, lacing their fingers together like he wants to, something too tender for a place like this.  
  
Because the prince asked a question, he nods. Lotor smiles again, seeming almost viciously pleased. “Maybe I should give him to you all the time,” he comments idly, “Let you hand him out to your little gladiator friends.” Keith makes a high, distressed noise, and Lotor laughs, “You don’t like that idea? But you loved being fucked by my personal guard, didn’t you? You took it so well.”  
  
God, Shiro hates himself. The thought of faceless guards pinning Keith down makes his stomach drop in disgust but the image his mind conjures goes right to his aching cock. He’s horrible. He grips his hips harder, fucks in deeper, and Keith moans. Lotor laughs. Shiro hates himself.  
  
He hates Lotor for doing this, and he hates Keith for being so goddamn beautiful and pliant and he hates himself for loving every second he gets to spend against another living person, craving the heat of Keith’s body and the fucking sounds he makes when he gets fucked. Keith arches up against him, and gasps out something that might be his name, his real name, eyes blown wide, and Shiro comes, holding Keith’s small body against him and moaning into the curve of his throat.  
  
For a few moments, the world is condensed down to nothing but the warm crook of Keith’s neck and the tingle of afterglow. Keith’s pulse races. Shiro does his best to collapse next to Keith instead of on top of him. He only halfway succeeds, holding him tight. Lotor says something, and the world expands again.  
  
The prince pulls Keith off his cock like he weighs nothing, murmurs something to him and holds Keith upright as he sinks down onto his own, splitting him open for Shiro to see. That shouldn’t be as hot as it is but god, Keith is so tiny against Lotor’s broad chest, legs spread wide and trembling to accommodate him. It’s so practiced, the way Keith falls limp against him, head tilting back on Lotor’s shoulder, that Shiro wonders how many times he’s done this. He wonders how many times he’s fucked him, how he fucks him.  
  
_Mean_ , he remembers Keith saying, _nice in a good mood and rough in a better one._ Lotor shoves Keith forwards, gets a hand on the back of his neck and presses his face into the bed and fucks into him hard enough that Keith moans helplessly into the sheets. Rough. Lotor must be in a great fucking mood.  
  
Keith is close enough that Shiro could reach out and touch him if he wanted to, run his fingers through his hair. He’s making these breathy, hurt noises with every thrust, but lotor doesn’t seem to care. Cautiously, Shiro drags his hand, his human one, along the sheets to rest next to Keith’s head. Keith jerks up a little, catching Shiro's eye for a moment. He’s still so fucking beautiful it hurts.  
  
Keith’s tiny fingers grasp at Shiro’s, scrambling for some kind of anchor. Shiro’s hand wraps around his easily, calloused where his is soft and small. Keith pressed their joined hands to his forehead and Shiro aches.  
  
_He never kisses me_ , he remembers, breathless and electrifying. Keith is right there, warm and keening and maybe hurting, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to tilt his head up, tangle his hand in his silky hair and kiss him soft and sweet. Keith makes this aborted movement like he wants to pull back, but Shiro traces the curve of his jaw, a juxtaposition to the hands tight on his hips, and he whimpers, falling limp and letting Shiro lick into his mouth. He only opens his eyes briefly, when lotor thrusts in so hard their teeth clack together, and then Keith is gone, moaning low and filthy as he comes into that sheets below him.  
  
Lotor is there, suddenly, flipping him onto his back. He drags a claw along his red red lips and gets a hand around the boy’s neck, inches away from Shiro’s face.  
  
“Who made you come?” He growls, voice low. Keith gasps breathlessly as lotor keeps fucking into him, twitching in overstimulation. “Who _let_ you come?”  
  
“Y-You, your majesty,” he gets out. Shiro watches as his throat spasms under the prince’s hand.  
  
“I could’ve locked you up tight, but I didn’t. I let you. Who do you belong to?”  
  
“Your majesty, I—“  
  
“ _Who_ ,” Lotor repeats, pressing down harder into the boys windpipe and looking up at Shiro, who he seemed to have forgotten about; Shiro’s throat tightens in fear, “do you belong to, whore?”  
  
“You, you your majesty,” Keith chokes out, making these broken, breathless noises in time with lotors thrusts, “You, my prince—your majesty, please, _please—_ “ he gasps for air as Lotor finally lets up. Shiro feels something in his chest crack and release.  
  
Lotor isn’t looking at him anymore, but Shiro has still gotten the message loud and fucking clear. _You_ , Keith is still muttering, eyes shut tight and head thrown back, _you, you, you._ Lotor digs his claws into Keith’s pale hips hard enough to draw blood. Keith whimpers softly, and Lotor groans, hips jerking, and then he comes deep inside Keith, moving his hips in little circles and holding him still as he does.

He pants softly and drops onto the bed, pulling out like an afterthought. Keith twitches as Lotor’s dick slides out of him. Shiro watches, barely daring to breathe too loudly.  
  
“That was fun,” Lotor says after a few long moments, still managing to look regal and in control slumped on the bed. Shiro thinks it was anything but. Hot, yes; terrifying, absolutely, but not fun. Keith is crying quietly, face pressed into the sheets. Still, Shiro nods, heart hammering in his throat. Lotor grins, “I like you, Champion.”  
  
Before Shiro can work out whether to say thank you or what the fuck, because he was pretty sure the prince was about to fucking kill him a few seconds ago, the doors slide open and two of Lotor’s guards appear. Shiro quickly pulls the sheets over his body. Lotor laughs, and gestures for him to get dressed.  
  
“Be sure to win your next match,” Lotor says absently. Shiro doesn’t know if it’s a promise or a threat.  
  
As he’s being led away, he glances back one last time, because he doesn’t know when he’ll see Keith again. He catches a glimpse of Lotor rolling onto his back, pulling Keith up roughly with him. “Ride me, whore,” he says, slapping Keith’s thigh. The boy’s legs tremble. He glances up at Shiro, purple eyes rimmed red, and sobs when Lotor pulls him down onto his cock.

The doors slide shut.    
  
What the fuck was that, he thinks. If it was some kind of test, did he pass? Did he fuck it up?  
  
To his surprise, he isn’t led away to be killed or punished for pissing off the prince, just tossed back into his favorite cell. Keith’s last sob keeps echoing in his mind, and the way he looked at him right before the doors shut, the way he gripped his hand so tight it hurt, the way he gasped his name but not Lotor’s.  
  
He sits with his back pressed against the wall, and waits for his next match.

 


End file.
